by Cathy Glass
Carole was clearly taken aback. ‘Of course they won’t stop loving you,’ she said uncomfortably.
‘And my mum still loves me,’ Alice added, with the same challenge to Carole to prove differently. ‘Even though you won’t let me see her!’
The Guardian looked even more uncomfortable, for it was clear Alice was holding her responsible for her loss. ‘Can we talk privately?’ Carole said to me.
I nodded and, taking Alice from the sitting room, called upstairs to the girls, who were in their bedrooms, relaxing after school. Lucy appeared on the landing and I asked her to look after Alice until I’d finished speaking to Carole. Alice scampered upstairs, pleased to be in Lucy’s company rather than that of the Guardian.
In the sitting room, with the door closed so we couldn’t be overheard, Carole said, ‘I don’t think Alice has a very good understanding of what is happening in her life.’
‘No,’ I agreed. ‘And with so little information, and no social worker to ask, it’s very difficult for me to explain to her. Indeed I’m not sure I understand myself. Why was Alice taken from her grandparents and brought into care? And why is she being sent to live with her father, whom she doesn’t know? I’ve been a foster carer a very long time, and until now I have always been able to see the reasons for the decisions that have been made, but not with Alice.’ I stopped and felt my cheeks flush with emotion.
The Guardian looked at me, puzzled. ‘But I thought contact with dad and step-mum was going all right?’
‘It’s all right,’ I said, feeling the Guardian was missing the point. ‘But why is Alice going to live with them? From what I understand her father didn’t have any involvement in her life until all this happened.’
‘But he wants her now,’ Carole said, almost with tunnel vision. ‘And it’s encouraging that Sharon is so enthusiastic in her new role as a parent.’
‘Too enthusiastic,’ I heard myself say. Carole looked at me. ‘Sharon is all over Alice like a rash. But no one seems to mind that there is not the same enthusiasm coming from Chris.’ By ‘no one’ I meant the decision makers – i.e. the Guardian, the social services and ultimately the judge, which I knew Carole would realize.
Carole remained calm and composed, to the point of being distant. ‘I think it is generally accepted that Chris would never have sought custody of Alice had it not been for Sharon. So it’s very lucky for Alice that Sharon wants her.’ Which was what Martha had said.
‘Alice is very resentful of Sharon trying to be her mother. I know Sharon probably means well, but she is going about it the wrong way. Sharon needs to back off, stop telling Alice to call her Mum and let Alice warm to her in her own time.’ I was putting it bluntly, but I’d had two months of having to defend Sharon to Alice every Tuesday and Thursday before and after contact.
‘I’ll mention it to Sharon when I visit them,’ Carole said. ‘Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Obviously we want the transition to Dad and Sharon to go smoothly.’
Clearly the Guardian and I were viewing the situation from very different perspectives. I wasn’t sure if she was being deliberately evasive or hadn’t realized the depth of Alice’s feelings. ‘You know Alice has a very strong bond with her own mother,’ I said. ‘She desperately needs to see her.’
‘It’s not possible at present,’ Carole said. ‘Leah’s not well. She wouldn’t be able to hold it together for contact. She hasn’t the self-control.’
‘What about telephone contact?’
‘The same applies.’
‘So I assume as soon as Leah is well enough, contact will be set up so Alice can see or at least speak to her mother?’ I said, championing what Alice needed.
Carole nodded, took a notepad from her bag and wrote what I assumed was a reminder.
‘What I don’t understand.’ I persisted, ‘is why Alice couldn’t have stayed with her grandparents. She’s very close to them and they appear to have done a very good job looking after Alice. She misses them greatly.’
Carole looked up, and her reply left me absolutely astounded. ‘I wasn’t sure about that either,’ she said. I stared at her open-mouthed as she continued. ‘The first social worker involved in Alice’s case felt that Janice and Martin Jones were too old to offer long-term care to Alice. They’re in their sixties now, which means they’ll be in their seventies by the time Alice is a teenager.’
‘And that was the reason for Alice being taken from them?’ I asked, amazed. ‘Their age in ten years’ time?’
‘Mainly.’
‘But Alice won’t need long-term care from her grandparents. Surely once Leah is better she’ll be able to look after Alice again, as she has done in the past?’
‘I did raise that at the time, but the social worker felt going to dad was the best option. Then of course there was the issue of Mr and Mrs Jones failing to cooperate with the social services.’
‘How did they fail to cooperate?’ I asked – or rather nearly demanded. ‘By allowing Alice to see her mother at Christmas?’ I could feel my pulse rising and I knew I had to calm down.
‘It wasn’t just Christmas,’ Carole said evenly. ‘They allowed Leah into their house to see Alice at other times.’
‘But Leah is their daughter, for goodness’ sake! Alice is their granddaughter. How could they not allow them to see each other?’
‘Precisely. That’s what the social services said – another reason for sending Alice to live with father. He and Sharon won’t have the same problem.’
‘That’s for sure. There’s so much animosity between Chris and Mr and Mrs Jones that when Alice goes to live with her father I doubt she’ll ever see her mother or grandparents again!’ I took a breath and lowered my tone. ‘Leah’s not an ogre,’ I said. ‘By all accounts she was a good mother until she became ill last August. What support was put in to help her?’
‘I don’t think it was much,’ Carole replied. ‘Chris and Sharon were very eager to have Alice, and the social services thought it was the best solution. But to be honest the final nail in the coffin for Alice ever being returned to her grandparents was their role in Alice’s abduction.’
‘They didn’t have a role in her abduction, did they?’ I asked, amazed. ‘I thought they were at home looking after Alice when Leah snatched her.’
‘Yes, they were. That’s the point. They didn’t stop Leah from taking Alice.’
‘What were they supposed to do? Fight off their daughter?’
Carole looked at me and was silent for a moment. I thought I had probably said too much. ‘I appreciate your concerns,’ she said after a while, in the same even tone. ‘When we have a new social worker or team manager in place, I’ll meet them and review some aspects of Alice’s case. Would that put your mind at rest?’
‘Yes, it would. Thank you. I only have Alice’s best interest at heart.’
Carol nodded and made another note on her pad, perhaps reminding herself to meet the social services, or perhaps that I was becoming too involved, or above my station – who knew? But at least I had had my say and voiced my doubts, for I would never have forgiven myself if the wrong decision had been made, Alice’s life had been ruined and I’d said nothing.
Carole then asked about Alice’s health, her routine, her general disposition and if she’d ever mentioned an ‘Uncle Mike’. I had to think for a minute, for the name rang a bell. I fetched my log notes and flipped back to when Alice had first arrived.
‘Yes, I thought so,’ I said, running my finger down the page. ‘Alice said it was Uncle Mike who collected her and her mother from the hide at the quarry, where they’d been sleeping. She said Uncle Mike was Mummy’s friend.’
Carole nodded and made another note. ‘That’s correct. He is Leah’s partner and he played a vital role in finding Alice after Leah had snatched her. He acted as go-between, the intermediary, passing text and phone messages between the police and Leah as they negotiated for Alice to be returned. He is a positive influence on Leah and has stood by her
.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Are they are still together?’
‘As far as I know.’
Before Carole left, she said she would be in touch again as soon as the new social worker was in post and she’d had a chance to speak to him or her, which she hoped wouldn’t be too long. I hoped so too, for although clearly Alice wasn’t in any danger, as a child in an abusive home would have been, it was unfair and emotionally damaging to Alice to leave her in limbo – in foster care. If she was going to live with her father, as seemed likely, then the social services needed to get her settled there as soon as possible so that she could get on with the rest of her life. At present her life was on hold, and if I wasn’t very careful all the good parenting that her mother and grandparents had done would be undone by the uncertainty. Alice was old enough and intelligent enough to worry about what was going to happen to her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kitty-cat
Caring for Alice was an absolute delight, and I knew the children and I were growing very attached to her. Apart from looking like an angel with her large innocent eyes, delicate features and silky hair, she had such a gentle and loving disposition you felt you just wanted to pick her up and hug her forever. Foster carers always form attachments to some degree to the children they look after – it’s natural, and we’re always sorry to say goodbye to the child, even when he or she is returning home or going to a loving adoptive family – but I knew we were all going to be heartbroken when the time came for us to say goodbye to Alice. Lucy and Paula had asked me more than once if Alice could stay with us permanently, while appreciating it wasn’t possible, as she was going to live with her father and Sharon. And while Adrian didn’t say much I knew he too would miss Alice dreadfully, for he had become like an older brother to her. Often Alice would seek out Adrian in preference to the girls or me, and the first thing she always asked me when she came home from nursery or contact was: ‘Is Adrian home?’ If he was she would scamper off to find him.
However, we didn’t have to worry about saying goodbye to Alice yet, for without a social worker, Alice wasn’t going anywhere. Two months rolled into three and while Alice was as happy as we could make her, she still bitterly missed her mother and grandparents, and pined for them daily. She often shared her many happy memories of their time together – helping Nana bake a cake, going swimming with Mummy, her last birthday, Christmas, etc. Alice still never mentioned her father and I naturally assumed the reason she had no fond memories of him was that she hadn’t see him until Sharon had come into his life and Alice had come into care.
I began a Life Story book for Alice, as I do for all the children I foster for longer than a couple of weeks. It is a record of the child’s time with us and includes photographs and memorabilia – for example, cinema tickets, the child’s drawings and merit certificates from school. A Life Story book is a tangible aide-mémoire which the child takes with them when they leave to supplement their memories of their time with us.
Each evening when Alice was in bed I wrote up my log notes, although there wasn’t much new to report, and a lot of repetition: ‘Alice had a good day at nursery. Alice asked when she could see her mum and said she misses her lots. Alice told me about the time her mum took her to the fair. Alice was subdued after seeing her grandparents; she would like to see them more often’ and so on.
Then one day Alice suddenly stopped talking about her mother. When I went into her bedroom I found the photograph of her mother had joined that of her father and Sharon at the back of the shelf. The first time it happened I assumed Alice must have moved the photograph by accident, for it was always at the front of the shelf. I returned it to its usual position – looking out over the room. The next day when I found it again facing the wall, I realized it probably wasn’t an accident and Alice was making a statement: that she was feeling very rejected by her mother and was now rejecting her.
‘Why isn’t Mummy watching over you?’ I asked Alice, glancing at the shelf, as I tucked her into bed that night.
Alice shrugged and pulled a face but didn’t say anything.
‘Alice,’ I said, perching on the bed. ‘Even though you are not seeing your mummy, she still loves you.’
‘Does she?’ Alice asked woefully. ‘How do you know? You don’t know she still loves me. I don’t think she does. Otherwise she would get better quickly so I can live with her.’ Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears.
‘Oh, Alice, love,’ I said, taking her in my arms. ‘I know Mummy loves you. I know she is trying her hardest to get better so she can see you. But sometimes things go wrong with us that take a long time to heal. Look at James in your class. He broke his leg weeks ago and it’s still in plaster. It will get better eventually but it is taking a long time.’
‘But James can still come to school with his bad leg,’ Alice said with a sob. ‘He can still see his friends, but I can’t see my mummy while she is ill.’ I knew I had chosen the wrong illustration.
‘Alice, pet, sometimes when we are ill it can stop us doing the things we want to do – the things we would like to do when we are well. Some illnesses affect our bodies, like when you have a cold in winter, while others affect the way we think and feel, and sometimes the way we behave.’ It was so difficult trying to explain mental health problems to a small child.
‘Was it Mummy’s illness that made her take me to the quarry to sleep?’ Alice asked after a moment.
‘Yes, love, that’s right. She was very worried – what we call anxious. I think she’s been like that for a while, which is why you were staying with your nana and grandpa. Mummy thought she was doing the right thing when she took you to the quarry, but it wasn’t the right thing really. Her illness made it difficult for her to know what to do for the best.’ Alice gave a little nod. ‘Alice, I know Mummy loves you and I know you are probably angry with her for being ill, and not being able to see you, but try not to blame her. I’m sure she wants to be well so she can see you again. Don’t be angry with her any longer, love.’
Alice gave a little nod, and then looked up at me from my arms. ‘I’m not very angry with her,’ she said. ‘Just a little bit. I’ll try and remember what you said.’
‘Good girl.’ I tucked her into bed and kissed her goodnight. Before I came out I rearranged the photographs in a line on the shelf so that they were all looking out over her bedroom and she could see them from her bed. The photographs of her mother and grandparents stayed in place at the front of the shelf but the photo of her father and Sharon soon found its way to the back again. I knew that once Alice had a social worker, and the timetable of Alice’s move to her father had been drawn up, I would need to spend a lot of time talking to Alice, preparing her for going to live with her father and Sharon, for without it I could see there were going to be huge problems, with Alice rejecting Sharon, and Sharon feeling affronted and then rejecting Alice. The social worker would also talk to Alice and prepare her for the move.
It was early June, and Alice had been with me for three months when Jill phoned to tell me that I had finally been cleared of the complaint the duty social worker had made against me on the day Alice had arrived. Jill said that the complaint had been investigated and the department was satisfied I had acted correctly and responsibly, which was a great relief. Jill also said that on behalf of the fostering agency she had put in a complaint to the social services that Alice had been with me for twelve weeks, largely without a social worker, which was completely unacceptable. However, June was to turn into a month of complaints, for having just been cleared of one, I soon found myself faced with another!
Two days after Jill phoned to say I was in the clear, she phoned again to say that Sharon had complained to the Guardian ad Litem about me and the Guardian had phoned Jill. According to Sharon, I was undermining the relationship she had with Alice, sabotaging her efforts to be a mother and ‘stealing her daughter’. Ludicrous as the allegations appeared to me (and Jill), I still had to disprove them
, for if I had been intentionally undermining Sharon’s role as stepmother, for whatever reason, it would have been viewed most seriously. As a foster carer I am expected to remain neutral and work with all parties in a case, in line with the care plan, sometimes having to put my own opinions and feelings to one side, which I hoped I had been doing.
Not for the first time I was pleased I’d kept detailed log notes. I went through my file and highlighted the many instances when I’d positively reinforced to Alice Sharon’s role as stepmother, as well as the negative comments Sharon had made to me, suggesting she had problems with my role: ‘She [Alice] likes you more than me. Why does she go to you? She keeps taking about you. I’ve told Alice to stop talking about you while she’s with Chris and me,’ and so on. It was a pity Sharon was so insecure in her role as stepmother that she viewed me, the foster carer, as a threat, instead of another professional who was working in Alice’s best interest. Jill gave a verbal explanation to the Guardian substantiating what I’d said, and I didn’t hear any more. However, I was very wary in my future dealings with Sharon, and maintained very detailed log notes of any conversation I had with her that could be misinterpreted or used against me. Sometimes, as with Alice, looking after the child was the easy bit; it was some of the adults connected with the child who caused the problems and hard work.
Whether it was Jill’s complaint to the social services that Alice had been without a social worker for three months, or whether the position would have been filled anyway, I didn’t know. But that same week, on Wednesday morning, when I answered the phone there was a female voice on the other end, introducing herself as Alice’s new social worker.
‘Good gracious!’ I exclaimed. ‘Really? I’m very pleased to hear from you.’
